The steamboat Erie, under command of Captain Titus, left the dock at
Buffalo on the afternoon of August 9th, 1841, laden with merchandise,
destined for Chicago. As nearly as could be ascertained, she had on
board about two hundred persons, including passengers and crew.
The boat had been thoroughly overhauled and recently varnished. At the
moment of her starting, though the wind was blowing fresh, every thing
promised a pleasant and prosperous voyage. Nothing occured to mar this
prospect till about eight o'clock in the evening, when the boat was off
Silver Creek, about eight miles from the shore, and thirty-three miles
from the city, when a slight explosion was heard, and immediately,
almost instantaneously, the whole vessel was enveloped in flames. Among
the passengers were six painters, who were going to Erie to paint the
steamboat Madison. They had with them some demijohns filled with spirits
of turpentine and varnish, which, unknown to Captain Titus, were placed
on the boiler-deck directly over the boilers. One of the firemen who was
saved, says he had occasion to go on deck, and seeing the demijons,
removed them. They were replaced, but by whom is not known. Their
inflammable contents undoubtedly aided the flames in their
rapid progress.
Captain Titus, who was on the upper deck at the time of the explosion,
rushed to the ladies' cabin to obtain the life-preservers, of which
there were about one hundred on board; but, so violent was the heat, he
found it impossible to enter the cabin. He returned to the upper deck,
on his way giving orders to the engineer to stop the engine, the wind
and the headway of the boat increasing the fierceness of the flames and
driving them aft. The engineer replied, that in consequence of the
flames he could not reach the engine. The steersman was instantly
directed to put the helm hard a-starboard. She swung slowly around,
heading to the shore, and the boats--there were three on board--were
then ordered to be lowered. Two of the boats were lowered, but, in
consequence of the heavy sea on, and the headway of the vessel, they
both swamped as soon as they touched the water.
We will not attempt to describe the awful and appalling condition of the
passengers. Some were frantic with fear and horror, others plunged
headlong madly into the water, others again seized upon any thing
buoyant upon which they could lay hands. The small boat forward had been
lowered. It was alongside the wheel, with three or four persons in it,
when the captain jumped in, and the boat immediately dropped astern,
filled with water. A lady floated by with a life-preserver on. She cried
for help. There was no safety in the boat. The captain threw her the
only oar in the boat. She caught the oar and was saved. It was Mrs.
Lynde of Milwaukie, and she was the only lady who escaped.
In this condition, the boat, a mass of fierce fire, and the passengers
and crew endeavoring to save themselves by swimming or supporting
themselves by whatever they could reach, they were found by the
steamboat Clinton, at about ten o'clock that night. The Clinton had left
Buffalo in the morning, but, in consequence of the wind, had put into
Dunkirk. She lay there till near sunset, at which time she ran out, and
had proceeded as far as Barcelona, when just at twilight the fire of the
Erie was discovered, some twenty miles astern. The Clinton immediately
put about, and reached the burning wreck.
It was a fearful sight. All the upper works of the Erie had been burned
away. The engine was standing, but the hull was a mass of dull, red
flames. The passengers and crew were floating around, screaming in their
agony, and shrieking for help. The boats of the Clinton were instantly
lowered and manned, and every person that could be seen or heard was
picked up, and every possible relief afforded. The Lady, a little
steamboat lying at Dunkirk, went out of that harbor as soon as possible,
after the discovery of the fire, and arrived soon after the Clinton. By
one o'clock in the morning, all was still except the melancholy
crackling of the flames. Not a solitary individual could be seen or
heard on the wild waste of waters. A line was then made fast to the
remains of the Erie's rudder, and an effort made to tow the hapless hulk
ashore. About this time the Chautauque came up and lent her assistance.
The hull of the Erie was towed within about four miles of shore, when it
sank in eleven fathoms of water. By this time it was daylight. The lines
were cast oft. The Clinton headed her course toward Buffalo, which place
she reached about six o'clock.
Upon inquiry it was found that there had been between thirty and forty
cabin passengers, of whom ten or twelve were ladies. In the steerage
there were about one hundred and forty passengers, nearly all of whom
were Swiss and German emigrants. The whole number of persons on board,
who were saved, did not exceed twenty-seven.
All that imagination can conceive of the terrible and heart-rending was
realized in the awful destruction of this boat. Scores sank despairingly
under the wild waters; but there is reason to fear that many, very many,
strong men, helpless women, and tender children perished in the flames.
Among the passengers were a young gentleman and lady, who first became
acquainted with each other on board. The lady was accompanied by her
father. Upon an intimacy of a few hours an attachment seems to have been
formed between this couple. When the passengers rushed to the deck,
after the bursting forth of the flames, the lady discovered her new
acquaintance on a distant part of the deck, forced her way to him, and
implored him to save her. The only alternative left them was to jump
overboard, or to submit to a more horrible fate. They immediately
jumped, the gentleman making the first plunge, with a view of securing
for the young and fair being, who had measurably committed to his hands
her safety, a plank floating a short distance from the boat. As soon as
the plank was secured, the lady leaped into the water and was buoyed up
by her clothes, until the gentleman was enabled to float the plank to
her. For a short time the young man thought that his fair charge was
safe; but soon his hopes were blasted--one of the fallen timbers struck
the lady on the head, her form sank upon the water, a momentary
quivering was perceptible, and she disappeared from human view. Her
father was lost, but the young gentleman was among the number picked up
by the Clinton.
There was a fine race-horse on board, who, soon after the alarm, broke
from his halter at the bow of the boat, and dashed through the crowd of
passengers, prostrating all in his way; and then, rendered frantic by
terror and pain, he reared and plunged into the devouring fire, and
there ended his agony.
One of the persons saved, in describing the scene, says:--"The air was
filled with shrieks of agony and despair. The boldest turned pale. I
shall never forget the wail of terror that went up from the poor German
emigrants, who were huddled together on the forward deck. Wives clung to
their husbands, mothers frantically pressed their babes to their bosoms,
and lovers clung madly to each other. One venerable old man, his gray
hairs streaming on the wind, stood on the bows, and, stretching out his
bony hands, prayed to God in the language of his father-land.
"But if the scene forward was terrible, that aft was appalling, for
there the flames were raging in their greatest fury. Some madly rushed
into the fire; others, with a yell like a demon, maddened with the
flames, which were all around them, sprang headlong into the waves. The
officers of the boat, and the crew, were generally cool, and sprang to
lower the boats, but these were every one successively swamped by those
who threw themselves into them, regardless of the execrations of the
sailors, and of every thing but their own safety.
"I tried to act coolly--I kept near the captain, who seemed to take
courage from despair, and whose bearing was above all praise. The boat
was veering toward the shore, but the maddened flames now enveloped the
wheel-house, and in a moment the machinery stopped. The last hope had
left us--a wilder shriek rose upon the air. At this moment the second
engineer, the one at the time on duty, who had stood by his machinery as
long as it would work, was seen climbing the gallows-head, a black mass,
with the flames curling all around him. On either side he could not go,
for it was now one mass of fire. He sprang upward, came to the top, one
moment felt madly around him, and then fell into the flames. There was
no more remaining on board, for the boat now broached around and rolled
upon the swelling waves, a mass of fire. I seized upon a settee near me,
and gave one spring, just as the flames were bursting through the deck
where I stood--one moment more and I should have been in the flames. In
another instant I found myself tossed on a wave, grasping my frail
support with a desperate energy."
One of the not least interesting facts connected with the catastrophe,
was that the helmsman was found burnt to a cinder at his post. He had
not deserted it even in the last extremity, but grasped with his charred
fingers the wheel. His name was Luther Fuller. Honor to his memory!
A boy of twelve years of age, named Levi T. Beebee, belonging to
Cleveland, Ohio, was among those saved. He exhibited a degree of
self-possession and fortitude rarely surpassed. Though molten lead from
the burning deck was dropping on his head, and his hands were scorched
by the flames, he clung for at least two hours and a half to the chain
leading from the stern to the rudder.